


Wait Up For Me

by parka_girl



Category: K-pop, MBLAQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Terrorism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parka_girl/pseuds/parka_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mir, a civilian, witnesses an act of terrorism and decides to help people, but instead gets caught up in a mess. G.O is the government agent who befriends him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait Up For Me

Cheolyong tugs on his jeans, pulls on a t-shirt and stuffs his feet in trainers and runs out the door, late again. He's always a few minutes late, which is how he misses his bus, which makes him miss his train. And that's how he's sitting at the metro station when the bomb goes off. At first he wasn't sure what happened. He'd heard a crash and glanced down the track. He didn't see anything, but then someone started screaming and then there was fire and smoke, so much smoke. 

He knows he should run away, he's not good with blood, except in the movies and this certainly isn't a movie. But he can't. Instead he digs in his backpack for a facemask, he pulls it out, hooking it over his ears and then lifts his gaze. He sees people now, coming out of the smoke. They're silhouettes in the emergency lighting and he acts without thinking. He pulls his backpack on and jumps off the platform and onto the ground below. He avoids the rails and walks carefully between them. 

He reaches the first group of passengers after a minute and they motion for him to go help the others. He walks toward the subway. Some of the flames seem to have gone out, but there's still smoke everywhere. He wishes he had a flashlight. He stops for a moment, glancing behind him, but there's no one following him. He glares, though no one can see and then starts walking again. 

When he finally reaches the first of the cars, he can't believe anyone survived. But then he starts  
hearing voices, people crying out for help or comfort or something. He climbs up onto the car and immediately wants to throw up because there's blood and bodies everywhere. Tears stream down his face and he doesn't even bother to stop them. He kneels down next to a young man, vaguely remembering how to check for a pulse. There isn't one and he has to force himself not to pull his hand away. He stops to check every body he passes, there are so many dead that he stops counting after he reaches 20. It's not until he's near the back of the train when he finds his first survivor. 

A little girl is trapped between a woman and a seat. She doesn't look hurt, but Cheolyong can't tell. He squats down and tries to talk to her, but she just keep crying. Finally he gently checks the woman for a pulse, she doesn't have one and then he realizes that she's probably the girl's mother. He doesn't know what to do. But then she's reaching up her arms and he realizes she's younger than he thought, maybe only two years old. He picks her up, letting her cling to him. He doesn't want to keep checking bodies, but he has to. 

He doesn't know how long he's in the car or where the rescuers are, but he finally makes it to the back, or what's left of the back. He realizes that this must've been where the blast happened and he can't go any further. The girl, who has her head buried in his neck, clings to him, but doesn't make any noise. He climbs gingerly out of the car and finds himself standing, almost pressed up against the wall. He turns back the way he came, past the wreckage of the car and down toward where he was waiting. He wonders where those survivors came from and wishes he'd taken a better look, but it's too late now. 

Just before he turns back, he sees flashing lights and thinks that maybe the police or EMS or whatever have finally arrived. But he's not going to stand around waiting. Still holding the little girl, he makes his way around the car and over the blast remains. It's probably completely dangerous and unstable, but he decides that he's spent too much of his life behind a desk not to risk it. And so he climbs, slipping and falling, until he gets to the other side. He's greeted by people, lots of people. And they're alive. No one looks at him, at least not right away. The girl he's holding starts to cry, but it's a sound only he can hear. He jiggles her slightly in his arms, because he's worried he's going to start crying again, too. 

Before he can, though, people are surrounding him, asking him questions. He barely remembers answering them. All he knows is that the girl is taken from him, screaming and all he can do is rip the charm off his phone, a little teddy bear given to him by the daughter of a coworker and give it to her. She stops crying, but she doesn't stop staring at him as she's taken away. He wipes at his face as he's led along the tracks, toward a door he didn't even know existed. He walks up the stairs, shocked when he realizes it's still morning. He pulls off his mask, which used to be white and is now almost black. 

"What were you doing there?" Someone asks and he turns and sees someone, a cop maybe, in uniform. He stares at her and then takes a deep breath before he can answer. 

"Trying to help." He says, his throat feels raw. He has a vague sense that he's had this conversation below, but no one was taking notes. 

"Why?" The woman demands. 

"People were -- didn't you see? There are people down there! Dead people!" His voice raises a little and he's shaking slightly. He curls his fingers against his palms and shoves them into his jeans pockets. 

She gives him an odd look and writes something down on her notebook. "Did you see anything strange?" 

"What, you mean besides a bombed out subway car?" He snarks at her and then immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry, I've just been --" 

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand. "Did you see anyone suspicious?" She asks and he realizes she changed the question. 

"No, I …" He starts, then stops. "When I was walking toward the car, where I found the girl, there were three people walking toward me." He scrunches up his face, trying to remember. "I think one of them had an orange vest. It was weird, they were all wearing masks and two of them had hoodies, I think. They waved me back to the car." 

"And you went?" She asks, sharply. 

He glares at her, but answers anyway. "I thought there were more survivors. They were … everyone except that little girl. Is she going to be all right?" 

"Everyone else was dead?" The woman asks, glancing at him. She ignores his question and he suddenly just wants to go home. 

He nods wearily. "Yes, except the girl." 

She stares at him and he gets the feeling she doesn't believe him, but she doesn't say anything else. Instead, her phone rings and she talks to someone, rapid fire and he's too tired to try and figure out what she's saying. She hangs up shortly and he clears his throat. 

"Can I go home now?" 

She seems to review her notes and then speaks. "One last thing. I need your name, phone number and address." 

He wants to ask why, just to be a pain, but he doesn't. He tells her what she wants to know and then he turns to leave. He looks around, for the first time since he came up from the metro tunnel. There are people and emergency vehicles everywhere. He looks around, desperately, for the little girl, but he can't find her. At least she has the bear, he thinks as he pushes his way out of the crowd. 

When he lifts the police tape and makes his way through the crowd, people stare at him. He knows what they see; he's covered in dust and dirt, but probably blood as well. He doesn't want to think about it, he just wants to go home. He catches a cab and to the driver's credit, he doesn't say anything. On the way, he calls his work, telling them they'll have to find someone else to cover his shift. He explains, briefly, what happened and is told to take the week off. He drifts off in the cab and is home before he realizes. 

He stumbles into his flat, which for the first time in a long time he wishes wasn't empty. He calls his mum as he's undressing. He dumps his clothes, the new t-shirt, favorite jeans and well-worn sneakers, into the trash. The mask and his hat follow. He doesn't want to look at them ever again. He leaves his mother a long, detailed, message. Then he steps into the shower. He scrubs at the dust, blood and grime that clings to him and lets himself cry, again. He barely makes it into bed before he falls asleep. 

His dreams are a mix of nightmares and some surreal trip he doesn't really remember when he wakes up. It's early evening, the sun's just set and Cheolyong feels completely famished. He pulls on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before putting some water on. While he waits for it to boil, he carries the trash downstairs and puts it in the dumpster. He's going to miss those jeans and shoes, but they're replaceable. Unlike people, he thinks bitterly, as he walks back upstairs. The water is steaming and he turns on the tv as he finishes preparing his ramen. Coverage of the bombing is all over the news. He even sees himself, though if he didn't know what he was looking for he'd never have noticed. It makes him upset, to watch this, but he can't turn the tv off. 

He's watching, from the couch, when his doorbell rings. He nearly dumps the last of his ramen on his lap, startled. He glances at his phone, but there are no missed calls. He stands up and walks toward the door. He peers out the peephole and sees someone, a man maybe, in some sort of uniform. He opens the door slowly and realizes there's a patch on the uniform that reads NIS. 

"Hello?" He asks, half worried and half curious. 

The man, who can't be too much older than Cheolyong himself, smiles slightly, almost apologetically. "I didn't wake you, did I?" He asks. 

Cheolyong looks down at himself, remembers the sweats and t-shirt, and then looks back up. He shakes his head. 

"Good. Can I come in?" 

He backs up, letting the NIS agent, or whatever he is, into his flat. Maybe it's a bad idea, but he's too tired to care. He shuts the door and follows the man into the main room. He finds him staring, almost distractedly, at the tv. He slips around him and shuts it off. 

"Sorry." He mumbles. "Would you like something to drink?" He asks nervously. 

The man shakes his head. "I apologize for coming here so late, but we have some follow up questions." 

Cheolyong looks at him, narrowing his eyes. The man seems to catch on fast. He holds up his hands and takes a step back. 

"You are Bang Cheolyong?" The man asks. 

He nods, crossing his arms. 

"I'm Agent Jung, with the NIS." The man, no, Agent Jung, leans against the doorframe. 

"Why are you really here?" Cheolyong asks. 

"My superiors wanted me to double check part of your story." Agent Jung says. His voice is pleasant enough and Cheolyong struggles to keep from instinctively trusting him. After the woman who interviewed him earlier, he doesn't want to have anything to do with the police. 

"Didn't that woman tell you everything I said?" He asks, sitting down on the couch. He knows he should offer this agent a seat, but he doesn't. 

Agent Jung nods, tapping something into his phone. "She did, but we need to go over the events one more time." 

When Cheolyong lifts his head, he notices, again, the apologetic look on Agent Jung's face. He pushes his anger aside and forces himself to recount what happened. He does it in more detail, he answers Agent Jung's questions as best he can. And when he talks about the bodies and the little girl, he can't stop himself from getting choked up. Agent Jung doesn't comment, but he looks sympathetic. 

After Cheolyong finishes, he has to go into the kitchen to get a drink of water. He expects Agent Jung to follow, but he doesn't. And when he returns, Agent Jung's put his phone and notes away. 

"Was that everything?" He asks. 

Agent Jung nods. "It was." He pauses, as if trying to decide something. Then he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He holds out a card. "Contact me, if you need anything."

Cheolyong takes it without looking at it. "Thanks." He replies, flipping the card over and over in his hand. 

After moment, when he thinks Agent Jung is staring at his hands (but maybe that's the shock talking), the Agent Jung breaks the silence. "The girl, the one you were carrying? She's okay. Her father came to get her."

"Was it her mum?" Cheolyong asks, voice anxious. 

Agent Jung nods, a look of sadness slips briefly across his face. "It was. Her husband, the girl's father, wanted me to pass along his thanks." 

Cheolyong nods, blinking back tears he doesn't want to shed. "Thanks." He pushes the words out, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

"I mean it, call if you need anything -- or if you remember something else." Agent Jung says, businesslike, but it gives Cheolyong a chance to recover. 

"Yeah, thanks." He manages to reply. There's no smile on Agent Jung's face, but there's something else that Cheolyong can't read, but it's gone before he even has a chance to try. 

"The NIS will probably be in contact, but I wouldn't worry. Just take care of yourself." And then Agent Jung lets himself out of the flat. 

Cheolyong stands there for a long time, staring at the spot Agent Jung vacated. Then his phone rings, jerking him back to the present. He answers it and has to tell the whole story over again, to his parents, who have him on speaker phone. After he's finished, it's after 11 and he's ready to go to back to bed. He picks up Agent Jung's card from where he dropped it on the table and finally reads it. It lists his name, Jung Byung Hee, along with a phone number and email address. 

Cheolyong carries it with him into the bedroom and sets it next to his phone. He sits on the edge of his bed for a long time, trying to clear his head. Eventually he gives up and just crawls under the covers. He doesn't think he's going to sleep, but as soon as the lights are out and his eyes shut, he slides into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

The next morning he wakes up early, too early, but once he's up, he can't seem to get back to sleep. He tosses and turns for an hour before just giving up. The sun's out and for about five minutes he forgets everything that happened. But his moment of peace and quiet is shattered when he turns the tv on. The bombings, he learns there were many of them, across the country, are the only thing people are talking about. He turns the tv off and puts on water for tea. 

He goes back into his bedroom, changing out of his sweats into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He's got the week off, thanks to the bombings and he's not going to shower if he's not going out. And he has no plans to leave. He grabs his phone, checking for messages and that's when he sees Agent Jung's card. He turns it over and over in his hands and then drops it in the trash next to his bed. Maybe ten seconds later he's fishing through tissues to pull it back out. He hears the kettle whistle and walks back into the kitchen, with phone and card in hand. 

While his tea steeps, he stuffs the card in his wallet. He doesn't know why or even what made him pull it out of the trash, but he tries not to think too hard about it. He sticks his wallet in his pants' pocket and takes his tea over to the table. He reads the news on his phone, scrolling through articles about the bombing. He would like to just never think of it again, but he guesses that'll probably be impossible. 

He's halfway through his tea when there's a loud banging on his door. His head jerks up and he glances at the clock on his wall. It's seven am, he doesn't know anyone who'd come over this early. His only other thought is that Agent Jung's remembered another question. But before he even has a chance to answer the door, it splinters open. People are shouting at him, telling him to put his hands up. He doesn't have time to grab his phone, but then he sees one of the men take it.

He tries to ask what they're doing, who they are, but no one even looks at him. They pat him down, of course he's not hiding anything, and remove his wallet. They stick it in a bag with his phone. He stares, confused, but notices that their uniforms look similar to Agent Jung's, and they all have NIS patches. They cuff him, before dragging him roughly down the stairs. It's not even like he's fighting, he's so bewildered, but they don't seem to notice. And once they're outside, they shove him into the back of a van. Before they shut the door, he glances back toward his building and he can see some of his neighbors looking out their windows. He tries to make eye contact, but no one's looking at the van. And if they were, he's almost certain they'd avoid his gaze. 

It doesn't take long, maybe five minutes, before they're moving. The van has no windows, so he has no idea where they're going and without his phone, he doesn't even know how much time has passed. He thinks about asking for Agent Jung, but when he tries to speak, someone slaps a hand over his mouth. He recoils back, hitting his head against the side of the van. It hurts and his eyes water a little. He tries to lift his hands to rub at the tears on his face, but remembers that they've chained him to the floor of the van. He feels the panic start to build up in his chest and he struggles to gain control. He stares at a spot to the left of the agent facing him. He lets himself space out because he doesn't want to cry again. 

Eventually the van stops. He can hear voices outside, but none of the guards inside the van move. After what feels like forever, a walkie-talkies on the wall of the van cackles to life. Cheolyong can't make out anything over the static-filled line, but one of the guard must've because he's being unchained and pulled out of the van. He looks around and is surprised that it just looks like an ordinary building. The guards are less rough, maybe because of all the security cameras he sees around. 

Once inside, he doesn't see anyone. The halls are empty as they walk, it's just Cheolyong and three guards. They meet up with a fourth when they stop in front of an elevator. The doors open and, much to his surprise, he sees Agent Jung stepping off. 

"Agent Jung!" Cheolyong calls out before the guards can stop him. 

Agent Jung turns around, surprised. "What are you doing here?" He asks, but before Cheolyong has a chance to come up with any sort of reply, he's being hustled into the elevator. As the doors slide shut, he swears he could hear Agent Jung yelling. 

The elevator descends down several floors and when it opens, the walls have an unfinished look. Cheolyong doesn't know if they're really unfinished or if it's just to scare the shit out of him and he doesn't have time to think about it, because they're pulling him along the hall. Roughly again and he looks up and notices, with a twinge of fear up his spine, that there aren't any cameras down here. 

He looks forward again and notices there's someone holding a door open. An older man in a suit, along with more guards. The door is steel and there's a window at the top, covered with bars. He's pushed inside, uncuffed and then the door is shut behind him. He walks to the door, presses his hands against it, pushing a little, even though he knows it won't move. He turns around and leans against it, staring into the room. He rubs at his wrists, which he notices are bright red and raw. He strains to hear anything from the outside, but there's nothing, not voices or even footsteps. They must've left, he thinks with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

The room is small, there's a toilet and a sink in one corner and a bed in the other. The walls are smooth, almost like tile in a bathroom of an upscale hotel. He walks gingerly over to the bed and sits down, it's not what he would've expected, but the only experience he has with prisons are from movies and tv shows. He sits there for a long time, hands on either side of him, flat against the mattress. He doesn't know how much time passes, he thinks maybe an hour, but no one comes. And that's when the panic rears it's head. 

He tries to keep himself calm. He paces, he does breathing exercises. He even sings to himself, but nothing works. It's settled deep in his belly and he just wants to cry. Occasionally he'll hear other people in the halls, but he can't see out the window to know what's going on. Eventually he sits back down on the bed, he scoots back until his back is against the wall. He tugs his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around him, press his face against his knees and starts to cry. Which is the way he remains until he hears the lock on the door to the cell click. He doesn't lift his head, he doesn't want to know who these people are. 

The door shuts again, lock clicking and then he does look up. It's Agent Jung. He meets the agent's gaze and wonders how he must look. He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up at all angles. Agent Jung's eyes widen slightly, even though Cheolyong sees him trying to control it. He doesn't unfold himself and makes Agent Jung come to him. 

"I'm sorry." Agent Jung says, the words tumbling out of his mouth. 

"You're sorry?" Cheolyong's thrown by the apology that all his questions have fled. 

Agent Jung paces the small cell as he talks. "I thought I'd made it clear to them that you didn't have anything to do with the bombings, but now you're here. No one told me. And …" He stops talking and looks over at Cheolyong. 

"And?" He asks, focusing on one of the buttons on Agent Jung's uniform. 

"My card was in your wallet." He finally says, stopping his pacing in front of Cheolyong. "And you called my name in the hall." 

"I couldn't stop myself --" Cheolyong stars, but Agent Jung holds up a hand. 

"No, it's fine. I don't know that they would've let me see you if you hadn't." He takes a few steps and then sits down next to Cheolyong. 

"Why am I here?" Cheolyong finally asks, unable to come up with anything else to say. 

Agent Jung looks at him, then takes a breath. "You were the only person to approach the cars. They think that you planted the bombs …" He glances at the door and then back at Cheolyong. "I'm not supposed to tell you any of this." His voice is barely audible. "But while there aren't cameras in the hall, they have them in here -- they just aren't wired for sound." 

"They think I … why would I want to kill people?" Cheolyong tries to keep the panic out of his voice, but he's finding it hard. His hands are shaking. He grips them tightly, staring at them. He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up. 

"I don't know. There's … there are a lot of innocent people down here. They need someone to blame." 

Cheolyong confusedly looks at Agent Jung. "They? As in the government?" 

Agent Jung nods. "No one's claimed responsibility for the bombs yet." 

"Which means I get to stay here indefinitely." There's bitterness in Cheolyong's voice he didn't know even existed inside of him. 

"Bang Cheolyong." Agent Jung says, making him look up. "I'm not going to let that happen." He looks like he's going to say more when there's a sharp rapping on the cell door. 

"Byunghee, your time's up. Get out of there before the boss gets down here." A low, gravelly voice commands. 

Agent Jung walks over to the bed, leaning down, hands on Cheolyong's knees, their hands touching slightly. "I'll come back as soon as I can." 

Long after Agent Jung's left and the lights are dimmed, for what Cheolyong imagines is night time, he's staring at the spot Agent Jung occupied. He clings to the promise of Agent Jung's return. It's how he can force himself to eat the dinner they provide. And while he doesn't sleep, he tries to distract himself with conversations he could have with Agent Jung, if only because it's better than crying. 

Somehow he falls asleep. He dreams about flying, about running into the waves of the ocean. And he dreams about Agent Jung. It's a weird, disconcerting dream, but he remembers nothing of it when he wakes up. It's still dark, Cheolyong imagines that it must still be night, but he can't seem to go back to sleep. He stares up at the ceiling, counting backwards from one hundred, but it doesn't work. So he gives up and slides out of the bed. He paces across the cell, counting his steps before eventually picking a spot and sitting down. 

He's never been one for meditation, but he needs to get his mind to shut up. He tries to remember what one of his colleagues, a girl who was really into new age stuff, taught him. He can't shut everything off, so he doesn't try. Instead, he focuses on his breathing. In and out, until he finally finds a rhythm. He doesn't know how long he's been sitting there, but the lock on his door clicks, bringing him out of his trance, or whatever it was. He's in the process of standing up when the door opens. 

Cheolyong's not sure why he's disappointed when it's not Agent Jung who walks into the cell, but he is. He schools his features to hide the unexpected disappointment and then forgets about everything when the man speaks. 

"Cuff him." The man says to someone outside the room. Two guards enter and cuff Cheolyong and then the man leaves. Cheolyong walks, not allowing them to drag him this time, out of the cell and they follow the man down the same hall he walked down the night before. They stop right before the elevator and the man opens a door, which leads to what Cheolyong guesses is some kind of interrogation room. 

"Sit." The man says and the guards push Cheolyong toward the chair so he has to choice but to obey. He looks across at the man, who isn't looking at him. But then he suddenly lifts his head. "State your name, for the record." 

"Bang Cheolyong." He replies, glancing around. The room, he thinks, must be wired for recordings, because he doesn't see any equipment anywhere. 

The man, who never introduces himself, begins to ask about his job, his company. He's confronted with printouts of his accounts as well as a whole bunch of them he's never seen. He tries to explain that he didn't work on all of the accounts they've listed, but it doesn't seem like the man is listening. He's tapping away at his iPad while Cheolyong is talking. Eventually Cheolyong figures out that one of the family members of the bombers received help from the organization he works for. He tries to explain, for the hundredth time, that it's not his account, but no one seems to be listening. 

After several hours and a coffee later, he's escorted back to his cell. They call it a holding cell, but Cheolyong has the nagging feeling that it's meant to hold people for a long longer than a normal holding cell. The door clicks shut and he's nervous again. He paces steadily before resuming his meditation position on the floor. This time, when the door opens, he doesn't even notice at first. 

"Bang Cheolyong?" A voice says. 

Cheolyong looks up. There's a woman this time, she's studying her phone and then looking at him. He stands. "Yeah?" 

Her phone rings, she answers it and then glances at Cheolyong. "Yes. He is, yes." She pauses and then nods, "five minutes, sir." Then she hangs up. She turns toward Cheolyong again. "Please come with me." 

He waits for the handcuffs, but there's nothing. The woman glances over her shoulder and Cheolyong hurries after her. The guards don't even give him a second look this time. They come to a stop in front of the elevator. She presses a button, swipes her card and presses a few more buttons. And then they stand in silence, watching the numbers descend until it reaches their level. The door slides open and she steps in, he follows. The ride up is quicker than the one down, but the silence remains the same. 

The doors open and the woman escorts him to an empty room. It looks like some sort of waiting room. "Sit." She says, then disappears out a door. There's no lock clicking behind her, but he doesn't even have a way to call for a ride, so he just sits and waits. 

Twenty minutes pass, according to the clock on the wall, before anyone else enters the room. When the door opens, Cheolyong's surprised to see Agent Jung, and no one else. He's holding a small parcel in his hands. He holds it out to Cheolyong. 

"Your stuff." He says. 

Cheolyong takes the package from Agent Jung and opens it. Inside he finds his wallet, keys and phone. He checks the contents of his wallet, everything aside from Agent Jung's card is there. He turns his phone on and while he's sure they went through it, it doesn't look like anything's been messed with. He stands, shoving the phone into one pocket and the wallet and keys into another. 

"Are you ready to go?" Agent Jung asks. 

"They're just … releasing me?" He asks. 

Agent Jung nods. "There are some papers you need to sign, then you're free to go." He holds Cheolyong's gaze and for a moment he thinks Agent Jung's going to say something else, but he doesn't. 

"Okay." 

They walk out of the room, down another series of halls until they reach another room. Inside are desks and Agent Jung directs him to one with a small pile of papers on it. Cheolyong just wants to sign everything and leave, but he doesn't. Instead he sits and studies each of the pages. There are ten in total and at the end he signs, because even though he doesn't understand everything, he knows he'd rather leave than stay. At least none of the pages said anything about him being associated with terrorists. When he finishes, he glances at Agent Jung, who nods at him. 

They leave the room and Agent Jung doesn't stop walking until they're outside. It's dusk, the sun setting and Cheolyong isn't even sure what day it is. He looks over at Agent Jung and finds him staring at him. There's something, concern, maybe on his face. 

"Do you have someone to come get you?" Agent Jung finally asks. 

Cheolyong shakes his head. "No. Will cabs pick me up from here?" He asks. 

Agent Jung smiles faintly. "Let me take you home instead." 

Cheolyong wants to protest, but stops himself. It's the least the NIS can do for him, after all. He watches as Agent Jung sends a text on his phone and then two minutes later a car pulls up. A uniformed man gets out and hands Agent Jung the keys, then runs back the way he came. 

"Get in." Agent Jung says and Cheolyong does. 

The drive to Cheolyong's flat is quiet. He leans his head against the window of the car and closes his eyes. He never realized how many sounds he missed until they were all taken away. Even the rumble of the car under him is comforting. He closes his eyes and doesn't complain when Agent Jung turns on the radio. 

Fifteen minutes later, Agent Jung is shaking him awake. "We're here." He says, softly. 

Cheolyong wakes up, groggily. He rubs his face with his hands and then gets out of the car. He glances back and is surprised to see Agent Jung getting out of the car. They walk to the door of Cheolyong's building. Just before he opens the door, Agent Jung touches his elbow. He turns around. 

"Here." Agent Jung hands him another card. "Promise me you'll call if anything else happens. Or if you notice anything weird." He pauses. "And I'll check up on you, if that's okay?" 

Cheolyong looks at him, surprised, but takes the card. He pulls out his wallet, sticking the card inside, not even waiting until later this time. "I'd … yeah. Maybe you can tell me what happened, too." He says, quietly. 

For a moment he considers inviting Agent Jung upstairs, but he's too exhausted and he knows he has a hundred voicemails and even more emails to deal with. He glances at Agent Jung's face and wonders if he's thinking something similar. 

"Maybe next time." Agent Jung finally says. 

Cheolyong feels both disappointed and relieved. He takes a breath and then speaks. "I'll just get going first, okay?" 

Agent Jung nods, but doesn't walk away until Cheolyong's inside the building. He turns back and see Agent Jung watching him. He nods and Cheolyong nods back, and then the agent walks back to his car. Cheolyong watches until it leaves, then he slowly takes the steps up to his flat. 

The first thing he notices is that his door's been replaced. The second thing he notices is that his key still works in the lock. He unlocks the door and steps into his flat. It's almost as if nothing ever happened. Except he knows it has, because his flat's clean, but it's not the way he likes it clean. Things are in the wrong places and really, he's not surprised. He makes his way through his flat, touching everything. He realizes, when he reaches his bedroom, that he's going to have to move. He can't possibly stay here. But he also knows he can't leave yet. 

He undresses, slowly and then takes the longest shower he's taken in ages. When he finishes, his flat is completely dark and he doesn't even get anything to eat, even though it's been hours since his last meal. He just crawls into bed, falling into a restless sleep. It's six in the morning when he finally wakes up. The sun's not quite up yet, but Cheolyong doesn't want to sleep anymore. 

After making some tea, he never wants coffee again after having some during his interrogation, he turns on his computer. As it boots up, he listens to his voicemail, stopping only once to call his parents and assure them that he's fine. He deletes all the other voicemail messages, except one from his boss. He'll answer that one in a few hours, when the work day begins. He turns his attention to clearing out his inbox. It's just as bad as he expected, but nothing he can't handle. By the time he's finished, it's time for him to call his boss. 

They talk for almost an hour and Cheolyong agrees that it would be best for him to take a few more days then return to work. He hangs up and sets about cleaning his flat. He spends the rest of his day scrubbing and vacuuming until he feels less violated than before. He fixes dinner and watches a movie, but refuses to turn on the news. Then he calls his parents before going to bed. He promises to come visit soon and then spends another night tossing and turning. 

The next day he ventures out of his flat. He doesn't encounter anyone on his way to the grocery. He shops slowly, savoring the fact that he's actually free. He reads the headlines of papers while he's waiting to pay, but it's everything he already knows -- or doesn't want to know at all. On the way back, his phone rings. It's his mother and they talk as he makes his way back home. He hangs up as he steps into the building. He does see a few people, but they avoid him. He barely holds himself together as he walks up to his flat. 

Once inside, door shut and locked behind him, he sinks to the floor. He knows he's having a panic attack and he tries breathing slowly, but it doesn't work right away. He puts his head between his knees and fifteen minutes later he starts to feel better. He puts away his groceries, grateful he didn't buy anything that would spoil right away. He makes dinner in a haze and sits down in front of the tv without turning it on. He pulls out his wallet and thinks about calling Agent Jung, but doesn't think a panic attack warrants a visit. He leaves his wallet and phone on the table and crawls into bed. The next day, he doesn't leave his flat once. Suddenly it's Friday, a week since the bombing. He's returning to work on Monday and he hasn't left his flat, except to get the mail, since his panic attack, three days earlier. 

Cheolyong knows he's being unhealthy, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to have to deal with anyone else. Even going getting his mail is stressful enough and he doesn't even run into people if he can help it. He sleeps through Friday and would do the same on Saturday, except that there's a knock on his door. He struggles to get up off the couch, the panic is overwhelming. He makes it to the door and peers out through the peephole and is relieved to see Agent Jung on the other side of the door. He opens it immediately. 

"Can I come in?" Agent Jung asks. 

Cheolyong nods, stepping out of the way. 

"Would you like some water?" He asks, because he ran out of beer and he hasn't worked up the courage to leave his flat again. 

Agent Jung nods. "How are you holding up?" He asks. 

Cheolyong gathers every ounce of himself together and turns from the fridge, holding two bottles of water, and smiles. "Just fine."

He's not sure, but he thinks that Agent Jung buys it. He holds out one of the bottles and the agent takes it from him. 

"When do you return to work?" He asks. 

"Monday." Comes Cheolyong's reply. 

Agent Jung nods, sipping at his water. "I wanted to stop by earlier, check up on you." 

"But?" 

"Work." Agent Jung makes a face that somehow makes Cheolyong smile for the first time in what feels like forever. 

"Did … did they catch them?" He asks, tentatively. 

Agent Jung shakes his head. "Some of them are dead, the others are in the wind." He sighs. "It's not really my case anymore."

Cheolyong looks at him, surprised. "Why not?" 

"I've been assigned to desk duty." Agent Jung doesn't sound bitter about it, though for some reason Cheolyong expected him to. He goes on before Cheolyong can come up with something to say. "I might've gone over my boss' head in order to get you out." 

Cheolyong's eyebrows shoot up. "What?" 

"Some of … some of the people I work with got a little overzealous with the people they arrested and there were a few of us, myself included, who stood up to them. You were one of the unfortunate victims, twice over." Agent Jung looks both sad and sorry. 

"I'm sorry." Cheolyong apologizes before he can stop himself. 

Agent Jung shakes his head. "Don't be. You didn't belong in there." 

They lapse into silence, drinking the water. Eventually it's Agent Jung who breaks the silence. "I meant what I said, about calling me." 

Cheolyong nods, absently. "I have your card." 

Agent Jung pulls another out of his pocket and scribbles something on the back, then slides it across the table. "Here, it's my personal mobile number." 

Cheolyong looks at it and then at Agent Jung. "Are you sure?" 

Agent Jung nods. He looks like he's going to say more when his beeps at him. He looks at it and then sighs. "I have to be going, but I'll come back. Take care of yourself, okay?" 

Cheolyong nods and then watches as Agent Jung leaves. He stares at the card for a long time, before going into the living room and sitting on the couch. He picks his phone up and types Agent Jung's number in his contacts. 

He muddles through the rest of the weekend, picking up his phone and almost calling, or texting, Agent Jung, but he doesn't. He watches some videos online, about PTSD and thinks that's maybe what he has. And then Monday rolls around and he has to go to work. A week ago, he'd listen to music on his phone, but he can barely keep his panic in check, much less handle any distractions. 

But in the end he makes it to work on time. His boss talks to him for almost two hours before they let him get to work. And, even then, they keep him off the phones. He catches up on paperwork, from the week prior and even before. He promises himself that if he can make it through the day, he'll order takeaway instead of going to the store as he'd planned. And he makes it through the day. He only just makes it home without falling apart, but he does. Each morning, he bargains with himself to make it through the day and a week passes. He gets better, little by little, and it helps that there aren't NIS agents breaking down his doors. 

His neighbors start talking to him again, which reminds him that he actually doesn't mind people. He's allowed to answer the phones at work, and no one seems to care that the NIS went through his office and all of their computers. He feels that everything might sort itself out once the woman who lives across the hall brings him soup and freshly made noodles. He's just about to eat them when there's a knock on the door. His heart skips a beat or three, but he doesn't panic. He gets up, slowly, taking his time. 

When he reaches the door, he peers through and is relieved to see it's Agent Jung. He glances at the table and thinks there's enough food for two of them. He turns back, pulling the door open. Agent Jung's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, not his usual uniform. He must look surprised, because Agent Jung smiles at him. 

"Today was my day off." He replies, stepping into Cheolyong's flat.

He pulls the door closed and watches Agent Jung walk into his kitchen. When Agent Jung turns around, he's startled to notice how good looking he is. He mentally shakes his head to clear it and then walks into the kitchen, joining Agent Jung at the table. 

"Hungry?" He asks, gesturing toward the soup and noodles. 

For a moment he thinks Agent Jung is going to refuse, but he doesn't. "Sure." 

Cheolyong gets up and divides the food almost in half, making sure to leave some for tomorrow. He carries the bowls back to the table, setting one in front of Agent Jung and then one for himself. He sits and they eat quietly. Cheolyong periodically glances up at Agent Jung, studying his face, but looking away before he's caught. Eventually they finish and he carries the bowls to the sink. He turns, to ask Agent Jung if he wants anything to drink and catches him staring. Cheolyong tires not to blush and looks away for a moment. 

"Are you doing all right?" Agent Jung asks, filling the silence. 

Cheolyong glances back and reads the concern on Agent Jung's face. "I'm surviving." Because it's the truth. 

"You haven't called." Agent Jung replies. 

"I … I meant to." Which is almost the truth. 

There's silence and then Agent Jung clears his throat. "If you don't want --" He beings, but Cheolyong cuts him off. 

"I didn't know what to say. I think I was … I still have, I mean. There were panic attacks, but I'm okay now." He pushes the words out quickly, but the look of concern is even more evidence on Agent Jung's face. 

"You can seriously call me any time." He pauses, and then adds, "I mean it, I live alone, you won't be waking anyone else up." 

"Agent Jung, I …" Cheolyong trails off, unsure where he was going with the thought. 

Agent Jung looks at him and then smiles a slight, crooked smile. "Call me Byunghee." 

Whatever Cheolyong was going to say slips out of his mind as he stares at Agent Jung -- no, it's Byunghee now. Probably hyung, too, if he thinks about it. And he's trying hard not to think about it. Because it's kind of freaking him out, though he doesn't know why. 

"I …" He tries to come up with some sort of response, but can't and then his phone rings. He glances up at Agent -- no, Byunghee and then answers it. It's his mother, wanting to know when he'll be visiting. He promises to stop by within a day or two. It makes her happy and she hangs up. 

"Sorry." He mutters. 

Byunghee shugs. "It's okay." He pauses, then goes on. "My parents do the same." 

Cheolyong smiles slightly, catching and briefly holding Byunghee's gaze. "Parents." He shrugs a little, making Byunghee smile and it twists something inside of him, but he ignores it. 

They sit in silence, it's almost awkward, but not quite. And then Byunghee's phone buzzes at him. Cheolyong watches as he reads a text message and then dials a number. There's no conversation, but it's clear that Byunghee was listening to a message of some sort. 

"I have to go." Byunghee says and Cheolyong's certain there's a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

"Oh?" He doesn't really want to know, but he asks all the same. 

Byunghee nods. "It's a different case." 

Cheolyong nods and then it's awkward as Byunghee's leaving and they sort of bow each other out the door and then his flat is empty. There's an ache, a new one to mix in with the old one. Cheolyong tries not to think about it, because more feelings are the last thing he needs. Instead, he cleans up the dishes from their shared dinner, returns the pan to his neighbor and then falls asleep in front of the TV. 

Byunghee doesn't stop by, but Cheolyong texts him a few times. Nothing more than a couple words so that Byunghee doesn't worry. He considers not texting, just to see if Byunghee will show up. But he doesn't, because even more than wanting to see Byunghee, he doesn't want him to worry. He also takes a trip home, spends the weekend with his parents. It's when he gets back home, after feeling relaxed for the first time in ages, that he notices something's wrong. 

He doesn't notice at first. He thinks that maybe he hadn't shut the cupboard before he left. But then he see that some of his books are out of order. In his bedroom, he thinks that maybe someone's been going through his drawers. There's a pair of socks on the floor, almost under the bed and he knows they weren't there when he left. He'd been halfway through unpacking when he realized that he couldn't just write these off. 

After debating for a few minutes, he sends a text to Byunghee, who'd known he'd gone home for the weekend. He gets a text a few seconds later, telling him to sit tight and not touch anything. He doesn't sit, he stands in the entrance of his flat, arms wrapped around himself and tries not to panic. He tries to talk himself out of the panic attack, but he finds it hard. 

When his doorbell rings, he jumps, startled out of his thoughts. He glances out and sees Byunghee. He flings the door open and when their gazes meet, Cheolyong knows that he must look as upset as he feels. 

"Are you all right?" Byunghee's asks as he kicks the door shut. He puts his hands on Cheolyong's shoulders, fingers kneading gently. 

Cheolyong finds it hard to breath still, the panic whirling around his head, his chest. He shrugs, unable to answer as well. Byunghee pulls him close, hugging him roughing. It's unexpected, but Cheolyong finds that it isn't unpleasant. In fact, he finds that he's feeling calmer. After a moment Byunghee pulls back. 

"Better?" He asks. 

Cheolyong nods. 

Byunghee steps further away and into the kitchen. "Was anything amiss in here?" 

Cheolyong follows, glancing around. He doesn't notice anything. Byunghee's looking and while Cheolyong doesn't trust himself to talk, he shakes his head. And then he watches as Byunghee proceeds to pour him a glass of water. Byunghee presses it into Cheolyong's hand, fingers brushing against his knuckles. And then he watches, waiting for Cheolyong to drink, so he does. 

"Tell me what happened." Byunghee's voice is soft, almost gentle. 

Cheolyong swallows, drinking more of the water, and then sets the glass on the counter. "I didn't notice, at first. Or I thought it was me. And then I saw … in my bedroom. Someone went through my drawers. I think they went through my books, too." He points toward the living room. 

Byunghee nods and then gently curls his fingers around Cheolyong's wrist, tugging him into the living room. They go through the rest of the rooms in his flat and Cheolyong points out everything he thinks has been displaced. It takes them almost an hour and somehow Cheolyong's gone from having Byunghee's hand on his wrist to holding his hand. It's all confusing and comforting at the same time. 

They return to the living room, where Cheolyong reluctantly frees his hand from Byunghee's and sinks down on the couch. He looks up at Byunghee, who he finds is staring out the window.

"Hyung?" Cheolyong whispers the word and Byunghee turns. 

"Yeah?" There's a faint smile on his lips, but it vanishes almost immediately. 

"What do I do?" His voice cracks a little and he can't even be bothered to be embarrassed. 

Byunghee crosses over to him and sits on the arm of the couch, they're so close they could touch, but they don't. "We'll have someone install a keypad outside your flat, maybe do the whole building. And then get you some more locks." 

Cheolyong knows Byunghee's trying to sound more reassuring, but he's still scared. 

"It'll be okay." Byunghee says, standing again. He rests his hand on Cheolyong's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Then he pulls out his phone. He paces around the living room as he talks on the phone. Cheolyong catches snatches of the conversation without meaning to. By the end of the phone call, he knows someone's coming over to change his lock and to talk to the landlord about keypad locks. 

Cheolyong stands and walks toward the window and looks out. He used to love living here. He wasn't in the middle of Seoul but he was close enough, just a subway ride away. But now he wants to live as far away from people as he possible can. He's trying not to be scared, but he knows the moment Byunghee leaves that he's probably going to have a panic attack. 

But Byunghee doesn't leave for hours. Instead, they sit side by side on the couch, waiting for the locksmith to come. He stands near Cheolyong as his locks are changed and added onto. He stays by the door while the landlord talks about getting new locks and keypads in the whole building. And then he finally leaves, it's late afternoon. 

"They'll come by in a week to start work on the keypads." The landlord says before leaving them alone. 

Byunghee turns toward Cheolyong. "I can stay, if you'd like?" He says, when they're finally alone again. 

Cheolyong wants to say yes. He desperately wants to, but he refuses to admit that he's scared. He's reached the point where he can cling to denial. So he shakes his head. 

"I'll be okay." He can't even tell if he's lying and from the look on Byunghee's face, he can't tell, either. 

For a moment Cheolyong thinks that Byunghee is going to hug him again, but he doesn't. And then Byunghee leaves. Cheolyong stares at the door for a long time after he's locked it. Then he makes a quick dinner, eating it while reading. Eventually, and far too early, he goes to bed. He doesn't sleep right away, but he closes his eyes and thinks about Byunghee. 

He makes it through the next week without incident. No one tries to get into his flat and he's finally reached the point where he thinks maybe everything's going to be okay. It's the day before the men are coming to give everyone in his complex new keypad locks when he second incident happens. He'd gotten off the subway a stop early, to visit a shop he likes. He'd just gotten on the subway again when he thought he saw someone he knew. But when he turned around, he didn't see anyone he recognized. 

He didn't think anything of it until he got off at the next stop, his stop. That's when he notices the person again. He catches a better look, this time, but the person doesn't actually notice him. It's weird, he thinks and then he starts up the stairs. When he turns back, he swears he saw the person vanish into the crowd. Which is even weirder. He gets to the top, into the fresh air, and the crowd thins around him. When he turns back, he sees the person duck into a shop. 

For some reason he doesn't understand, instead of going back to his flat, Cheolyong turns around and walks back down the stairs. He tries to keep himself calm, counting backwards from 100 until the next train arrives. He doesn't even look to see which one it is, he just gets on. He glances around and doesn't see the man, until he happens to look in the next car, behind his. He sees the man, watching him. The doors slid shut before Cheolyong is able to get off again and he can see the man trying to walk through the crowds and toward him. 

It's late enough that the subway is crowded and people aren't giving way, at least not easily. So at the next stop, Cheolyong gets off, only to watch the man get off, too. They lock gazes for a second and Cheolyong swears he recognizes the man, but he can't figure out why. Just before the train leaves, he gets again, and so does the man. They play this game for several stops, no one seemed to notice but the two of them. As each stop passes, Cheolyong feels the panic crawling up his spine. 

By the time he glances at the map to see where he is, he realizes he's almost an hour from his flat. The panic has taken over and he has to tell himself to walk and not run as he finally gets off. The crowds are thin on the train, but heavier outside. Everyone's leaving, so Cheolyong takes the chance and slips off the train, hoping the man can't find him. He ditches his hat and hides behind a pillar as he stuffs his bag into his backpack. 

When he looks around, he doesn't see the man, but there are still enough people to make it hard to spot him. Cheolyong tries not to run up the stairs toward the exit, but it's hard. When he finally gets outside, it's dark and he doesn't know where to go. Right before he rounds a corner, he sees the man emerge from the the station. Panic stabs at him, making him gasp for breath. The man hasn't seen him, that much Cheolyong's sure about. 

He watched from the safety of his corner, as the man looks around once, twice, three times. And then he pulls out his phone. Which is what reminds Cheolyong that he had a phone, too. And then the man sees him, their gazes lock and Cheolyong starts running. He doesn't know why. He just knew he has to run. 

As he runs, out of breath and shaking, he pulls out his phone and tries to call Byunghee. It takes him several tries but eventually he manages to hit the right number in his contacts. The phone rings and rings for what felt like hours, but Cheolyong knows that can't be, before Byunghee finally answers. 

"Hello? Cheolyong?" Byunghee's voice is loud in Cheolyong's ear. 

"Hyung. Hyung!" He pans the words out, unable to do more than that at first. 

"Cheolyong. Are you all right? What's going on?" The worry in Byunghee's voice makes Cheolyong feel a tiny bit better, until he looks behind him. 

"There's … Hyung, there's someone following me." He gasps the words out and then ducks into a noodle shop full of people. 

He steps in line, then past it, away from the windows and he can see the man looking around for him. 

"Where are you?" Byunghee's voice is loud in his ear, startling him. 

"I don't …" He starts to say and then ducks down, slipping into the bathroom just before the man turns around. He sees a sign and reads the address off to Byunghee. 

"Don't move, don't go outside. I'll be there in ten minutes." Byunghee promises. 

"Don't hang up." Cheolyong's voice wobbles slightly, but he doesn't care. 

"I have to." There's remorse in Byunghee's voice. "I need to get there fast, but I'll call you as soon as I can, okay?" 

"Okay." His voice is small and he feels scared. 

He hides in the last stall. He pulls his legs up on the seat and waits. He checks his phone, which he'd put on silent, but nothing. Every time the bathroom door opens, Cheolyong thinks he's going to die. Finally, after what feels like forever, he gets a message from Byunghee. 

Where are you?

He replies quickly. 

Bathroom. Last stall.

He waits through his own version of eternity and then the door opens. Only one person walks in. Cheolyong doesn't say anything. The footsteps approach his stall, there's a gentle knocking, then the person speaks. 

"Cheolyong, it's me." 

Relief floods through him at the sound of Byunghee's voice. He reaches out and unlocks the door. Byunghee pushes it open and then without even stopping, gathers Cheolyong up in his arms. 

"I'm here. You're okay. Everything's going to be okay now." Byunghee's voice is against his ear and Cheolyong's clinging to him, shaking. He doesn't realize he was crying until he felt wetness against his cheeks and on Byunghee's coat. 

He pulls back a little and wipes his eyes. "Hyung." He whispers and Byunghee holds onto him tighter. 

"Someone was following you." He whispers as he maneuvers them out of the bathroom. "I parked a street away, we're going out the back way." 

No one looks twice at them as they slip out through the kitchen. Byunghee's arm around him the whole time, not letting go. Cheolyong's grateful. It takes them a few minutes to reach Byunghee's car, but they eventually do. Once inside, Cheolyong feels himself start to shake harder, he knows he's crying again, too, and he doesn't care.

Byunghee reaches over and brushes his fingers against Cheolyong's face, wiping away a few of the tears. "Just hold on a little longer." 

Cheolyong can't speak, but he nods and then spends the entire car ride alternatingly staring at Byunghee and out the window. It takes them a long time, but eventually they ended up in front of Choelyong's flat. He looks over at Byunghee. 

"I'll stay with you." It isn't a question and Cheolyong isn't about to protest. 

Byunghee parks the car in the lot Cheolyong has no need for and they go upstairs. Of course, there are no keypad locks yet, but it doesn't matter because Cheolyong's going to move out as soon as he possible can. But not now. 

He unlocks the door with Byunghee's hand on his lower back. As he turns the lights on in his flat, he braced himself, but it's clear no one's been there since he'd left for work in the morning. He tries to relax, but found he can't.

"Go change into something comfortable, I'll fix us dinner." Byunghee says matter-of-factly. 

Cheolyong doesn't argue. He changes quickly into sweats and a t-shirt and then walks back into the kitchen. Byunghee's at the stove and Cheolyong just stands there, watching. They don't talk, but he's all right with that. 

After dinner, they sit on the couch together. Cheolyong sitting too close to Byunghee, but he feels safe if they're touching. Or almost touching, or whatever. He's too tired, too scared, to care. The news comes on, but Cheolyong doesn't know how long he's going to be able to keep his eyes open. He feels himself drifting off to sleep, but keeps jerking his head to stay awake. 

"It's okay." Byunghee says softly. "I'm not leaving." 

Cheolyong finally gives in, letting his eyes drift shut. When they finally open again, he's lying on the couch, his head in Byunghee's lap. He can feel fingers in his hair. He doesn't move, doesn't even open his eyes. Just enjoys feeling safe, at least for the moment. It takes him a bit, though, to realize that Byunghee's on the phone. 

"Someone was following him. No, I'm not making it up. I saw him, with my own eyes. It was one of your men." A long pause, and then Byunghee's fingers curl tight in Cheolyong's hair, as if he's angry about something. "No, he didn't see me. I'm not some fucking amateur." Short pause, and then he goes on. "He chased Cheolyong, I mean, Mr. Bang, through the subways! I don't know what you're playing at but --" and then he's cut off. 

That is when Cheolyong sits up, dislodging Byunghee's hand from his hair. Their gaze meets and Byunghee's is full of silent apologies. Cheolyong opens his mouth, but Byunghee shakes his head, motioning for him to wait. Then Byunghee starts talking again. 

"No, I'm not leaving him. I'll move in if I have to." Long pause and then he gets up and starts pacing. "I don't care what you think. Fine, he can stay with me." A longer, angry pause and Cheolyong can almost hear the person on the other end of the line, yelling. "No, you know what! I'll quit. I will quit. He's not a fucking terrorist!" 

The room goes silent as Byunghee stalks across it, toward Cheolyong. He sits back down on the couch, not touching him, but listening intently into the phone. Then, finally, he speaks again. "You better believe I'll bring it up with our bosses. Don't think I haven't already." And then he hangs up the phone. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Byunghee says softly. 

Cheolyong knows his eyes are wide. "Byunghee-hyung, what … what's going on?" 

Byunghee rubs a hand across his face before says anything. "One of my … no, several of my coworkers seem to have lost their minds." He looks over at Cheolyong. "One of them, the woman you had the pleasure of meeting on the day of the attack, seems unable to let go of the idea that you're one of the terrorists." 

Cheolyong feels himself start to freeze up, the world tilting slightly, but then Byunghee's right there, hands on his shoulders. He rubs his thumbs against Cheolyong's collarbones, through his t-shirt.

"Three things." Byunghee said, softly. "First of all, you're not the only target. And, secondly, my, our, bosses know what's going on and are trying to stop it." 

"The third?" Cheolyong manages to ask. 

Byunghee lets go of Cheolyong's shoulders. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." 

Cheolyong chews on his bottom lip, twisting his fingers together in an almost nervous tic he hasn't done since he was a child. He looks down at them and then back up at Byunghee. "How?" 

Byunghee reaches out and takes Cheolyong's hands into his own, stilling them. Cheolyong tries not to think about it, or the way that he likes it. "I'll move in here. Or, if you don't want to stay here anymore, you can come live with me." He makes as if to release Cheolyong's hands, but Cheolyong grabs on, slightly, not ready to let go. 

"Okay." He says and for moment neither of them speak. The silence between them is almost awkward, but then Byunghee starts to tug at Cheolyong. For a moment he thinks that Byunghee was going to pull him into his arms, something Cheolyong would not really be adverse to, but then the phone rings. Cheolyong's cell, still on the kitchen table. 

He reluctantly gets up, pulling himself away from his strange attraction to Byunghee and answers. "Mum?" He pauses, listening to her telling him about her day. He feels his shoulders relax as she talks. "Yeah, I'll come visit soon. No, I haven't met … no, mum. I'm not interested in any blind dates." He goes quiet again as his mum asks him about a package she wants to send. He lifts his gaze and then looks at Byunghee, who's watching him. "Mum. Mum, wait. Can you hang onto the package for a bit?" He pauses, listening to her protests. "I'm going to … I'm not going to be at this flat for a while, okay? Something's … it's complicated. I'll tell you about it later, okay?" He waits her out and eventually she accepts. 

"I love you too, mum." He says, still holding Byunghee's gaze. And he holds it, long after he'd hung up. 

Byunghee gets up and walks across the room, to Cheolyong. "That okay, before, was to …" 

"Moving out of here. In with you, whatever it takes." Cheolyong replies, feeling better than he has all day. 

Byunghee nods and looks like he was going to say something, but Cheolyong cut him. 

"When?" He asks. 

"When what?" Byunghee replies, eyebrows furrowing. 

"When can I move in?" 

Byunghee arches an eyebrow this time. "When would you like?"

"Now?" 

Byunghee steps in closer and then reaches out, squeezing Cheolyong's shoulder. "Is tomorrow okay?" 

Cheolyong nods. "And you promise to stay here tonight?" Byunghee nods and so Cheolyong goes on. "Good, because I'm going to go to bed." 

"I'll take the couch." Byunghee says and for some reason, it made Cheolyong's heart sink a little, but he pushes that away as he walks into his bedroom. 

The move doesn't happen smoothly, Cheolyong doesn't really think it would. He has to pack up his flat and Byunghee has to leave, though Cheolyong doesn't want to be alone. He has to report into work and when he comes back, later in the afternoon, he brings a bag of supplies. They set up a lamp and the TV with a switch that would turn it on for a few hours. One for the living room and one for the bedroom. They're digitized so Byunghee sets them to go on and off at different times and to randomize it. Then they pack a few weeks worth of clothes for Cheolyong, along with other things he might need. 

Cheolyong wants to pack everything, but Byunghee reminds him that one of them will have to go get his mail every week and he could just bring what he needs. Cheolyong doesn't ever want to see the flat again, but he understands Byunghee's logic, even if the panc in his chest says otherwise. Eventually he just accepts that Byunghee is right and then, suddenly, it's time to leave. It's dark outside, the sun long since set and Cheolyong's both hungry and tired. 

On the way to Byunghee's flat, they stop to buy some dinner. Cheolyong following him inside, unwilling to be left alone, even in the car where he could see the shop from his window. He hangs back, letting Byunghee do all the ordering. He doesn't understand how he can just allow Byunghee to take over, but it seems far easier this way. He's tired of thinking, of fighting to keep control over his life. It's nice, he feels, to let someone else do it for a while. The rest of the ride to Byunghee's is quiet and somewhere along way Cheolyong falls asleep. He wakes up, embarrassed to find Byunghee gently shaking him. 

"We're here." Byunghee's looking at him with a strange look, but Cheolyong's too tired to figure it out, and it's too dark out anyway. So he just nods and unfolds himself from the car. 

They carry the bags and dinner inside, it takes them two trips, up a flight of stairs and then an elevator ride up to the sixth floor. Byunghee's place is far, far nicer than Cheolyong's. He likes it because it's clean and quiet, though he imagines Byunghee doesn't really know his neighbors. Which, Cheolyong thinks, is probably both a good and a bad thing. 

Byunghee's flat is also much nicer than Cheolyong's. It looks expensive. He doesn't have much time to look around because Byunghee's ushering him around. 

"Here's the bathroom. That's the kitchen, we'll eat in there in a minute. This is my bedroom and yours is just across the hall." They deposit all of Cheolyong's stuff in the guest room and he thinks that if Byunghee would have his way, they'd just unpack everything right that instant. 

"Food?" Cheolyong asks through a yawn. 

They eat dinner quickly, quietly. And then Cheolyong leaves Byunghee to clean up as he goes back to the bedroom that will become his. He changes into pajama pants and a t-shirt, then ventures into the bathroom. It's neat, bright and clean. He set his stuff off to the side, trying not to mess anything up. He brushes his teeth and then returns to his bedroom. He glances in Byunghee's room as he passes. He's half-dressed, only wearing a pair of boxers. Cheolyong takes a moment to admire his back and then shakes his head, to clear it. He slips quietly into the guest room and sits on the edge of the bed. He can't see into Byunghee's room from here, but he can hear him. Walking around, going to the bathroom and then walking back. 

There's a light knock on his doorframe and Cheolyong looks up. Byunghee's standing in the doorway, in his boxers and a t-shirt. He met Cheolyong's gaze and then walks into the room. 

"Are you doing all right?" He asks. 

Cheolyong scoots over, leaving room for Byunghee if he wants to sit on the bed. "I'm … I'll survive." He think it's the only answer that can come close to explaining how he feels. 

Byunghee does sit. The bed dips a little and they're almost touching. Cheolyong wants to touch Byunghee. He wants to feel Byunghee's hands on him, warm and safe. He wants to curl up against him, like he had on the couch the previous night. He wants to not be alone. He doesn't know if it's Byunghee or just that Byunghee's there, but he definitely doesn't want Byunghee to go back to the other room. But he doesn't say anything. 

"I know," Byunghee begins, "my place isn't … It's not really like home. But I don't usually, I mean, before … I didn't spend a lot of time here." 

Cheolyong looks over at him, surprised. "Why not?" 

"Work. I usually work, worked, the late shifts." 

"Why?" Cheolyong ass again, twisting his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt. 

Byunghee shrugs, looking away. "I've never … no, it's. I don't socialize much. My parents don't approve of my life choices." 

Cheolyong shifts, crossing his legs, one of his knees resting against Byunghee's leg. It almost feels like Byunghee was pressing his leg back, to increase the contact. "They don't like that you're an NIS agent?" 

There's a long, awkward moment when Cheolyong thinks that Byunghee hasn't heard the question or just isn't going to answer it. Then Byunghee turns and looks at him. "That's … one of the life choices they disapprove of." Byunghee looks away and then Cheolyong watches as he looks down at their legs, rather Cheolyong's knee and Byunghee's leg and then he looks over at Cheolyong. 

"Yeah?" Cheolyong asks and for the first time finds he can think of nothing else but Byunghee. 

"Your … your mum was setting you up on a blind date?" He finally asks, which is not what Cheolyong's expecting to hear. 

"She's trying, but I'm really not into it." Cheolyong says, and then thinks, fuck it, and goes on. "My noonas are married and have kids, or soon will … I'm just not … I'm not really interested. Mum doesn't understand what I like and I can't seem to find it anyway." He finishes, lamely. 

He feels Byunghee pull away and he looks up. "I see." Byunghee says and then Cheolyong realizes something, or at least felt like he realizes something. He looks at Byunghee hard and wonders what those life choices were that his parents doesn't approve of. He doesn't know how to ask any more than he knows how to explain what he likes. So he reaches out and grabs Byunghee's wrist. 

"Byunghee-hyung." He says, quietly. He watches as Byunghee turns toward him. "I … I don't want to be alone." He whispers. 

Byunghee twists his hand around until they're basically holding hands. He looks at it, then at Cheolyong, then back at their hands, but says nothing. 

"Please." 

Byunghee still doesn't say anything, but instead stands, his hand still in Cheolyong's. He pulls him gently up off the bed. Without letting go of Cheolyong's hand he slowly tugs him into the other room. 

"Are you sure?" Byunghee asks. 

Cheolyong isn't sure, he doesn't think he can be. But he nods anyway. 

Byunghee guides him into his room, leaving Cheolyong's room behind, darkened now that the lights are off. He tugs Cheolyong toward the bed, reaching around him to pull the covers back. 

"You can get in." He says softly, finally letting go of Cheolyong's hand. 

Glancing at Byunghee, Cheolyong hesitates for a moment and then crawls into the bed. It's big, soft, far more comfortable than his own bed, not that he doesn't like his. He watches Byunghee shut the lights off and then crawl into bed with him. 

"It will be okay." Byunghee says and Cheolyong feels him searching for his hand. He reaches out and slid his hand into Byunghee's. 

"Can you promise that?" He whispers. 

Byunghee's hand squeezes around his own. "I can promise to protect you." 

Cheolyong decides that's as good as he's going to get and nods, though he's sure Byunghee can't see. He curls into his side, facing Byunghee in the darkness, their hands still together, and tries to sleep. 

He doesn't know how long he slept, but he's awoken by the desperate need to go to the bathroom. The first thing he notices is that this isn't his flat, the second thing he notices is that he's not alone in bed. Then he remembers what happened the previous day. He sits up slowly, careful not to wake Byunghee up and slides out of bed. He tries to remember where the bathroom is and after a wrong turn, he finds it. He wants to freak out, but the bathroom's priority. But as soon as he finishes, he can feel the panic slithering up this spine. He washes his hands, then splashes water on his face and stares in the mirror. 

He doesn't look like someone who'd be chased through the subways and down the street. He doesn't look like a terrorist, either. But he then again, he doesn't know what those looked like. All he knows is that there's someone out there, someone in the fucking government, who seems to think he is one. Even if he was, which he knows he isn't, it's not like he knows how to make bombs or even anyone who could make bombs. He grips the edge of the sink in Byunghee's bathroom, finding that he's unable to move. He keeps staring in the mirror, water dripping off his face. 

There's a sound in the hall, he might've heard Byunghee calling his name, but Cheolyong's pretty sure that he can't move. Then he hears knocking on the door, Byunghee saying he's coming in and the door opens. Cheolyong can see Byunghee's reflection in the mirror. He lifts his gaze, meeting Byunghee's and is surprised to see worry on his face. It comforts him, too, in an odd way. And then he feels, and sees, Byunghee's arms slide around him, pulling him gently away from the sink. 

"Come back to bed, Cheolyong." Byunghee's breath is hot against the back of Cheolyong's neck. He feels himself start to shake a little, he wishes he wasn't so fragile. Before the subway explosion, it would've taken a lot to rattle him. And now, waking up in a strange bed in a strange house, neither of which are really that strange, is enough. 

Byunghee turns Cheolyong around until they're facing each other. He's grabbed a towel and gently wipes the water off of Cheolyong's face. He closes his eyes, so he doesn't realized that Byunghee's pulling him into a hug until it's already happening. He thinks about pulling away, but doesn't and instead presses closer. The feel of Byunghee's arms around him makes him feel safe. He doesn't know if he's actually safe, if Byunghee can really protect him, but this is okay. 

He feels one of Byunghee's hands rubbing against his back and he shifts, fingers curling in the hem of Byunghee's shirt, pressing against his sides. He doesn't know how long they stand there, but eventually he lets Byunghee gently pull him back to bed. He crawls in, watching through half-open eyes as Byunghee climbs in after him. They're on the wrong sides, reversed from the previous time, but Byunghee doesn't seem to care. Instead, he gathers Cheolyong up in his arms, pulling him close. Cheolyong shifts until he's nearly face to face with Byunghee. He thinks back to their conversation the previous night. 

"Byunghee-hyung …" 

"Yeah?" Byunghee's eyes open slightly, watching him. 

"Your parents, was the other part of your lifestyle choices they didn't approve of … was it this?" He asks, feeling himself blush, but also relieved to be thinking about this and not panicking. 

Byunghee pulls back a little, but Cheolyong holds onto him, not letting go. "Possibly." The reply is soft, almost reluctant. "Why?" 

Cheolyong thinks about the blind dates, his previous girlfriends. A few of his boyfriends, including the ill-advised year-long relationship that he thought was true love. He closes his eyes for a moment, then forces them back open. "Because." He murmurs and then shifts forward, closing the gap between them and pressing his mouth against Byunghee's. 

For a moment he thinks Byunghee's going to push him away. He feels the motion, stops the kiss, but then Byunghee's mouth is moving, kissing him back. Byunghee's kissing him hard, shifting until he's on top of Cheolyong. He arches up, pressing his hips against Byunghee's, sliding his hands under his shirt and along his back. Cheolyong shudders under Byunghee, hooking one of his legs around Byunghee's, bringing their bodies even closer together. 

They slid against each other and Cheolyong can feel Byunghee, hard against him. He moans softly, sounds slipping into Byunghee's mouth. Byunghee rocks against him, half-thrusting and kissing him harder. Cheolyong shudders again, close. Then Byunghee's mouth was on his neck, biting at a spot near his collarbone. Cheolyong gasps, moaning again. His fingers dig into Byunghee's back as he comes, whimpering slightly. Byunghee comes shortly after, quick thrusts against Cheolyong, then finishing with a soft noise that Cheolyong thinks maybe he wanted to hear over and over. 

Byunghee sinks against him, breathing hard. "Cheolyong?" 

"Yeah?" The word come out in a breathless whisper. 

"The blind dates …" He starts, then stops. 

Cheolyong scrapes his fingers lightly along Byunghee's back. "Mum tried. I've had a couple of girlfriends, but I … I like this more." He murmurs. 

He feels, rather than sees, Byunghee smiling. Byunghee's mouth against his jaw, kissing toward his mouth. He stops thinking for a bit as they kiss. Byunghee's hand twists in his hair and he arches up again, though he knows they aren't going to repeat the earlier performance. He just likes the feel of Byunghee against him. 

"Hyung?" 

Byunghee's reply is a soft vibration against Cheolyong's skin. "Yeah?" 

"Do you sleep with all the people you protect?" Cheolyong tries to keep the smile out of his voice, but doesn't think it worked. 

He feels Byunghee laughing, even as they kiss again. "Only you." He replies against Cheolyong's mouth. "Only you."

They slip into a routine that keeps Cheolyong both comfortable and safe. Byunghee drives him to work and picks him up after, no matter what he's doing. Cheolyong thinks maybe he's a burden but Byunghee promises he's not. And the smile on Byunghee's face whenever he sees Cheolyong walking toward the car is enough to convince Cheolyong that this is the right thing to do. 

After work, once a week, they drive to Cheolyong's flat, gathering up his mail and anything he might need. Then they return to Byunghee's flat. They don't go out much, otherwise. Sometimes to the movies, but usually they sit at home and watch TV or read. Sometimes they order takeaway, but mostly one of them cooks. On the days when Byunghee has to go in and Cheolyong doesn't work, he'll clean or do laundry. He was never one for domestication, but he finds he's taking to it well. Especially because Byunghee always looks more tired than usual when he returns from spur of the moment missions. 

It's after one of those, when they're sitting down to dinner, that Byunghee brings up the subject of why Cheolyong's staying with him. 

"My boss has launched an internal investigation." He says around a bunch of noodles that slide off his chopsticks and into the bowl in front of him. 

"Against …." Cheolyong is scared that someone is going to take Byunghee away from him. 

Byunghee reaches across the table, covering one of Cheolyong's hands with his own. "Against Agent Lee." Agent Lee, Cheolyong had finally learned her name. 

"Will they … will they stop her?" Cheolyong asks. 

Byunghee shrugs, squeezing Cheolyong's hand. "I don't know all the details, they're keeping me well out of it. But one of my colleagues, he suggested that perhaps they're trying to set up you and a few other civilians." 

Cheolyong feels his eyes go wide. "Do you … do you think she might be one of them?" 

"I don't know." Comes Byunghee's reply. He pulls his hand back and for a few minutes they eat in silence, then Byunghee speaks again. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised. A couple of the other agents have gone undercover, as it were, to try to figure it out." He looks over at Choelyong. 

"What?" Cheolyong asks. 

"They asked me if I wanted to do it." Byunghee says, quietly. 

"Did you want to?" 

Byunghee chews his noodles, swallowing, then answers. "At first, I thought I did. I wanted to get her for what she did to you and to the others. But …" He stops, watching Cheolyong, who feels like he should be blushing a little and then does. "But that meant I'd have to trust someone else to take care of you." 

"I can take care of myse --" Cheolyong starts, but Byunghee cuts him off. 

"You know what I mean." There's a smile on his face that almost reaches his eyes and Cheolyong returns the smile. 

"I do."

Byunghee smiles again, proper this time. They go back to eating in a comfortable silence. After they've finished, when Cheolyong's helping with the dishes, he turns and looks at Byunghee. 

"Thank you." He says quietly. 

Byunghee looks over at him. "For?" 

"For picking me." Cheolyong half-whispers. 

A smile ghosts over Byunghee's mouth and then he leans over and kisses Cheolyong hard. They haven't done much since that first night. A few kisses and a lot of cuddling. But Cheolyong, though he'd wanted to, hadn't pressed and neither had Byunghee. But now, now all he wants is to feel Byunghee against him. 

He sets the bowl and dish cloth down on the counter, without breaking the kiss and presses against Byunghee. He feels Byunghe's hands, still wet and soapy, pulling him close. He shivers as Byunghee's hands slide under his shirt. He kisses Byunghee harder, biting a little at his mouth as Byunghee backs him into the wall. 

Their bodies are pressed together, one of Byunghee's legs wrapped around one of Choelyong's and they're thrusting, albeit slightly awkwardly, against each other. Byunghee's hard against Cheolyong, who arches into him. Then they're stumbling toward the couch, Byunghee on the bottom, Cheolyong straddling him. They're kissing more, harder and more insistent. Byunghee pulls off his own shirt, then Cheolyong's, as they grind against each other. Cheolyong doesn't think he's going to be able to stop and take his pants off, but the thought slips his mind and Byunghee arches up against him. 

Cheolyong comes first, face buried against Byunghee's neck, breathing hard. Byunghee comes after, fingers clutching at Cheolyong's back. They don't talk and the only sound is their labored breathing. Cheolyong kisses Byunghee's neck, nestling into his lap. Byunghee's arms slide around him, properly, holding him tightly. Cheolyong knows they need to both get up and change, but he doesn't want to move, so he doesn't. And Byunghee doesn't seem to want him to move, either. 

"Cheolyong?" Byunghee says, quietly, then kisses the top of his head. 

"Yeah?" Cheolyong replies through a half-yawn. 

"When this is all over …" Byunghee starts, but then trails off. 

Cheolyong doesn't move, just settles closer, because he's thought about this. He's gone through all of his fears, about going back to his old place. About the worry that one day someone will think he's the bad guy again. But mostly about how he doesn't want to go back to a life without Byunghee. 

"Hyung," Cheolyong starts, "do you want me to stay here?" He feels Byunghee shift and he does pull back, but only so he can look at Byunghee. "Well?"

Byunghee reaches out, brushing his thumb against Cheolyong's jaw. "Yes." He pauses, and then, "do you want to stay?" 

Cheolyong leans in, presses a kiss against the corner of Byunghee's mouth. "Yes." He murmurs the word against Byunghee's mouth. He feels Byunghee grinning as they kiss. 

Another month passes, as uneventful as the previous. And then it's almost nine months since the attacks, since Cheolyong's life was turned around. It's also almost five months since Cheolyong's been living with Byunghee. Almost all of his stuff has moved from his old flat to his new one. And while they've told Cheolyong's mother the truth, Byunghee's parents remain clueless and both of them think that it will be better that way. 

Byunghee still drops off Cheolyong at work, picking him up after like clockwork. The only times he doesn't, when he's working on a case that requires him to be in the field, he sends one of his coworkers, usually someone who knows the truth about their relationship. They'd long since stopped being agent and civilian. Cheolyong thinks of himself as Byunghee's boyfriend and Byunghee seems to share the sentiment. They go out more, but neither of them like lingering out longer than necessary. 

One Wednesday, just after their fifth month anniversary, not that either of them had kept track. Byunghee comes home late. Cheolyong, who had the day off, had been fixing dinner, when the door bursts open. Byunghee, instead of looking tired as usually, looks jubilant. Cheolyong tries to remember which case he'd been working on, but doesn't have the chance to say anything. Instead, Byunghee crosses the room, still wearing his coat, which was wet from the rain. He gathers Cheolyong up in his arms, kissing him roughly. 

A little light goes on in Cheolyong's head as he's kissing him back. He pushes his hands under Byunghee's coat, trying to get it off, and then he's asking the question that he wants to ask every time Byunghee gets home. 

"Is it over?" He whispers, both terrified and excited at the prospect of finally having an answer. 

Byunghee's kissing him again, holding onto him tightly. Then he's talking, lips moving against Cheolyong's. "It's over." 

Later, after dinner, when they're curled up around each other in bed, Byunghee tells him what happened. They'd been tailing her for months and one of the other agents had gotten closer to her. Byunghee kept most of the details to himself and Cheolyong was grateful, there was a lot he didn't want to know. In the end, Byunghee had told him, she'd confessed. The guilt, along with the suicide of several followers of the group she belonged to pushed her over the edge. They'd found all of her files, including Cheolyong's. 

"It was full of information that wasn't real." Byunghee says, pulling Cheolyong closer. 

"She just made up evidence?" He feels Byunghee nodding. 

"Her group, they were going to frame people with the evidence, at least that's what my boss thinks." Byunghee replies, thoughtfully.

They both grow quiet for a long time. Cheolyong curls closer to Byunghee.

"She won't be able to hurt anyone now." Cheolyong finally says, breaking the silence. 

"They stopped her. And her group." Byunghee replies, tipping Cheolyong's head up and kissing him. 

Cheolyong returns the kiss and then pulls back a little. "So what happens now?" He asks, a little tentatively. 

Byunghee looks at him, face serious. "We all get a vacation." 

It takes Cheolyong a moment to process Byunghee's words, but when he does, a grin spreads across his face. "A vacation …" 

Byunghee nods, smiling at him. Then he kisses him hard, pulling at Cheolyong until they're tangled up together. "So," he says against Cheolyong's mouth, "where would you like to go?"


End file.
